Beautiful
by Jiara Anatalis
Summary: K2 short oneshot exploring the possible relationship between female Exile and Sion. Ever wonder why she was so beautiful to him...and why he hated her for it? This is my interpretation.


She was so beautiful to him.

Of all the things he had lost, she was the one thing he missed. He gladly traded all he had been for what he had become, but he regretted that she was not there to share his glory, to see all he was, to know his power and might.

She was coming.

He settled deeper into meditation. The floor fell from below him as he pulled the darkness closer. He stretched outward, sensing the dried corpses in the room. There was no Force there. Not any longer. He remembered their pain as he drained them of life. He savored the agony as he fed off their power. He could not remember how long ago that was, but he knew it had been too long, far too long, since he had tasted the misery of death and felt the pain…felt anything.

He could feel her.

Peragus caught him off guard. Something was reforged there—reawakened. Reborn. Something he thought as dead as himself these past ten years. All this time he believed there were only two who walked away from Malachor's grave. Now he knew there was a third. The witch had lied on this too, but then she was the Lord of Betrayal. He and his Force brother—twins born of the same disaster—had served her for her deceit towards them, keeping them alive in the Force, compelling them to live on without life, sustained by pain and hunger. She saved them, she said, found in the carnage and hidden from Revan's gaze, given her protection at Trayus to grow strong and stand at her side against the one who ordered this endless torment. That was not the betrayer's goal, and she used them to her own ends, until the day they cast her down. Had he known she harbored this secret as well, the crone would not have survived that day.

She would be here soon.

He reached out, past his chamber, past the abandoned ruins and the blazing sand. The planet was barren—to the living. There was great power here, and he called to it, a call to the dead through the dust of memory and forgotten time. His mind drifted back, searching for torment and pain but he found himself in a moment. He was at peace, he was alive. He was with her. He would be with her again, he could sense it.

She would return to him.

"Is this what passes for a Sith Lord?" A voice hissed, the words creating a hollow echo in the air.

"It would appear so," another voice answered. "I can only wonder how our kind survives if this is the best we have to offer. He is a dishonor and a disgrace."

"A true mockery of our former might," the first voice spat. "This one claims mastery of the dark, yet there is a taint of affection within him. He still loves!"

"He reeks of weakness. He resides in death's shadow, but he remains bonded to the living."

"He does not know his place. He dares summon us, only to ignore us."

"He continues in his dreams while we come before him! This weak fool will know the eternal power of a true Dark Lord!"

"Hold, Ragnos—can you not see this is what he wants?" the first voice added quickly, realizing. "He channels the Force through pain and he hopes we will harm him. He seeks to anger us into action, to do his bidding. He desires our power without earning it."

"You are right, Sadow—I sense his disappointment. Pathetic. My estimation of him has sunk even lower, and I did not think that was possible," Ragnos sneered. "Enough of our time has been wasted here."

"Agreed," Sadow answered. "We will not dance to your tune, weakling—you do not play well enough."

"Nor will we bow to you, Master of Nothing. We leave you to your empty empire."

"Do not presume to call us again. One such as you will never be our equal, your name will never be mentioned with ours…you will never join us."

She would join him.

He had gone with her, when she said she was joining the war. How could he not follow her? They were connected, so quickly, easily, naturally. He felt it the instant they met; they were destined to be one with each other. The Force had joined them, they would always be together. He had not sensed her since Malachor. He thought their dream, their promise, was gone. But now she was there again, all around him, in him, as before.

She was here.

He concentrated deeper, following the tendril of their connection. He sensed her: so beautiful. He hated her for that beauty, that love she caused between them. He was surprised to find it within him, but he knew how to turn the weakness into power. Together they would rule, as decreed by the Force the day it bound them. This was their destiny. The bond pulsed with her heartbeat. He called to her.

She did not answer.

Searching, he called again and sensed her all too familiar energy. She was warmth, trust, and tenderness. She was life. The emotions at once repulsed and excited him as he thought of what had been, and what would be again. He reached deeper through their conduit, eager to reunite with her. Her feelings intensified…but they were directed towards another. A shock jolted through him; a dull ache spread from his center. He searched again, and found nothing of himself in her. He was cast aside; he was nothing to her, not even a memory.

She had forgotten him.

With an anguished cry, he released his trance. The Force swirled around his body and crashed into him. He thought again to all he had, and all he had lost. The heartbreak sliced through him. The Force rushed to his mind, filling him with a power he had never known before. Slowly he stood. What passed for a smile pulled at his lips. He imagined the fool who now held her heart; the torment he endured at the thought was replaced with a flood of dark energy of an intensity he had never experienced. He remembered their nights together, and realized she shared this passion now with another; he bathed in the pain of the idea and the Force answered his call.

He hated her with all that he was, and he loved her for it. More now than ever.

She was so beautiful to him.


End file.
